Rose parked her bicycle at the back of the abandoned barn and used a small door near the rear to slip inside, even though the precaution was largely unnecessary. The crumbling building was well off the locals' radar.
Inside, the holes in the roof and walls shot beams of sunny brightness across the open space, lighting up the drifting dust motes. Rose couldn't see the TARDIS in the corner due to the perception filter, but she knew where it was and was almost desperate for its companionship – at the moment it was literally the only old friend she could access. She located the lock and fittedher key into it, thinking how being befriended solely by a piece of sentient technology meant her social life had never been quite this pathetic.
Inside then and a rush of relief for the familiar feel, the comfort sent by the ship to flood her consciousness. She felt like hugging one of the coral struts and wished she had time to go change out of this bloody corset and skirts and into sweats for a while, just lounge around in a familiar symbol of her era with nothing cutting off blood flow. Instead, she climbed the ramp and curled up in the pilot's chair, sitting for a moment with her eyes closed and letting the TARDIS mentally mother her.
Eventually she tapped some buttons on the console, bringing the view screen to life. A few more taps and she pulled up the recording that was the main reason for her visit – the Doctor's instruction tape on what to do while he was temporarily human, changed by the Chameleon Arch to hide his Time Lord-ness from the keen senses of the Family. On it the Doctor sat down in front of camera, adjusting it so his image was centred in frame.
Rose's eyes began welling almost immediately. The mere look on his face showed he was the Doctor and not John Smith, angry 20th century prig. (Not that the Doctor had been exactly a libertine before, but at least he was fun.) She touched the screen and felt how horribly insufficient the gesture was.
"Rose, listen to me, this is important." She choked with some unnamed emotion at his Northern accent. It had disappeared from John Smith – his speech had gone all clipped and proper on her and it was one of the quirks she missed most. Somehow its absence seemed the clearest sign he was gone.
"Here's a list of instructions for when I'm human. Number one, if they find us, you know what to do: have me open the watch. Now be prepared for something if you do: when you tell me what's going to happen I won't understand and I may resist. The life I've taken on will be the only one I've ever known and I won't necessarily want that life to die. But you'll convince me, I know it. If anyone can get through to me, it's you." He grinned and winked. Rose squeezed her eyes shut as tears leaked out the corners.
"Now, number two: don't let me hurt anyone…"
"Too late," she grumbled.
"Number three, don't let me abandon you…"
" Should I let you call me a slag for cleaning the floors?" she snarked.
"Number four, and this is very important: do NOT let me wear a bow tie. Bow ties are NOT cool. A man should not tie things around his neck like he's a puppy left under the Christmas tree."
Rose gave a watery laugh, shaking her head as she wiped her eyes. He really was a nutcase.
The tape kept going, full of reminders to unplug the electric tea kettle and water a few plants and to ignore the "experiment" in his bathtub no matter how much it growled. She kept it on just for the sound of his voice until she came to the most important part; for this she leaned forward and watched every flicker of his face.
"And lastly…Rose, this is the hardest task I've ever asked of you, of anyone, and I know at times it's going to seem impossible. I wish I could tell you what John Smith is going to be like but I don't know myself." He swallowed, looking pained. "I wish I could guarantee that I'm going to remember or recognize how...special you are. I have no control over any of it."
Rose began to cry in earnest now. She knew that, and it made her feel terrible for blaming him.
"But I can't imagine trusting anyone else with something so important, with my very life. You're the only one for the job, Rose. And keep in mind that I am coming back for you, and when I do I don't want to hear one word about anything I did while I was an ape." His grin bloomed then, in all its magnificent lunatic glory. "See you soon."
He reached toward the edge of the frame and the picture snuffed out. Rose let her face fall into her hands. Two more months without the most important person she'd ever met—maybe even without his replacement, for all intents and purposes. She didn't intend to stay close to John Smith if his recent behaviour were to continue. She'd keep near enough to watch over but seal off her heart. Taking abuse was not only out of the question, but potential bitterness over it could conceivably ruin things between them once he came back.
She sighed. She wished she could pilot the TARDIS and skip to the end of all this. She wasn't much enjoying the slow route.
Rose's plan for the morning was to give Mr. Smith his breakfast as quickly as possible and get the hell out. She would obviously protect the Doctor no matter what, but that didn't mean she had to stick around for his alter ego's Neanderthal rubbish.
Her walk into his room was brisk, the tray she carried and its contents miraculously rattle-free. She reached the table and began laying his things out on to it, quick and sure. Apparently the key to superior serving skills was anger.
She refrained from looking at him and he didn't talk for several moments; she wished she wasn't bothered by that fact but she was, which annoyed her. She kept to her task; the faster she got out, the faster she could be alone with her own brooding and not have to analyse any of his infuriating reactions or non-reactions.
"Rose," came his voice. Head bowed over her work, she squeezed her eyes shut and didn't respond. "Rose, you're obviously very angry."
She straightened haughtily and saw his blue eyes for the first time that morning; she knew she'd done well not to look at them before this - they were soft and humble and would have undone her, certainly. "What makes you say that?" she asked shortly.
"You're not acting yourself." He looked flatly at the items on the table. "You haven't knocked anything over."
Rose fought the traitorous, snorted laugh that wanted to emerge and only partly kept it from escaping. He caught it and a quiet smile relaxed his face.
"I'm sorry, Rose. Terribly sorry."
Rose blinked in surprise and tried to hide that, too. The words were astonishing out of either of the men in front of her. "All right, " she offered finally, at a loss for a reply.
Mr. Smith looked dissatisfied and moved to perch on the edge of a desk, nearer her. "You must know, I didn't mean to snap at you." He paused. "I did mean to snap at Baines…"
"And you did that quite well." A small smile. That had been a thing of beauty.
He smiled wryly and shrugged. "Well, it was appalling, what he did—actually laying hands on you." He got lost with his thoughts for a second. "I don't know why but that really made me very angry."
Rose felt shivery. The man he'd been shimmered before her, for just a second.
"Not to mention the way he spoke to you both. We're not only educating these boys, we're teaching them to be gentlemen. I know I'm alone in this opinion, but I can't abide rich young men thinking their station gives them license to do anything and everything they want to. I make it a point to disabuse them of that notion whenever I feel I can."
Rose raised an eyebrow in keen interest; she knew very little of his TARDIS-supplied backstory. "Did you know a lot of young men like that growing up, sir?"
"What? Oh, no," he said distractedly. He grew vaguely uncomfortable. "I wasn't…born to the life I lead." Rose waited, but he didn't elaborate.
His focus returned and he addressed her earnestly. "In any case, after I reprimanded Baines, I just…I felt it necessary to make a show of…non-favouritism, I suppose you'd call it. And I was quite caught up and I suppose I got carried away somehow. It came out much harsher than I'd intended."
Rose blinked. "Non-favouritism?"
Mr. Smith rubbed his hands together, thinking. "Rose, you and I are already somewhat…familiar, with each other. We..." He paused, as though building up to a confession. "…enjoy each other's company." He smiled, looking a little vulnerable. Neither had ever actually mentioned their rapport out loud. Rose couldn't help but smile back which made him look happier, their expressions building off each other.
"Which you know already pushes the boundaries of the relationship between a servant and her employer, in some people's opinion. Add to that the fact that you're a…" he faltered a moment. "…young, unmarried woman, and—you are unmarried, yes?"
Rose bit her lip, amused. "Yes sir, I am."
"Yes, well then, you see how outside observers might come to false, problematic conclusions."
He glanced at the door – making sure it was still clearly open, Rose guessed.
She nodded, wishing she could kick this era's mores out on their arses but knowing the effort would be futile. "We are just…friends, sir," she ventured, both of them smiling again at the new title. "We're doing nothing scandalous. Certainly the occasional talk in your quarters doesn't require us to put on a false show?"
He nodded. "Well yes, I do think I'll make it a policy not to rant at you in public again…" He smiled wryly. "…but unfortunately, the reality of our situation almost doesn't matter." His eyes were plaintive. "If anyone in authority here were ever to form the opinion that we had…an inappropriate relationship, you would be out on the streets with no one even asking if any of it were true, I imagine. You'd lose your job with none to replace it this time. Where would you go?"
Rose wasn't sure. Her own invented story was that she'd been a maid for a family who'd fallen on hard times and couldn't afford to keep her, but had arranged for a job for her at Farringham. She could certainly survive on her own in her own time but, caught in this era, she would be completely at a loose endif she were sacked.
She looked at his face, open and concerned. It was yet another bit of his real life leaking through, she mused—they clicked here just as well as before. Back then, an older man travelling with younger woman had been a bit dicey but nothing unmanageable. Now just being friends was a minefield that could potentially ruin them.
And it occurred to her that ruining "them" was exactly what would happen. He was downplaying it, but Mr. Smith would be nearly as stigmatized as she would. Who would hire a schoolmaster known for fraternizing too closely with the female servants?
Rose sighed – the situation really did have the potential to go completely and seriously pear-shaped. She wished she didn't feel such a strong need for his reassurance and attention…his affection, his…well.
She didn't know quite what to say. "I want us both to be all right," she said finally. "But…especially you."
An indefinable look crossed Mr. Smith's face. "Are you feeling better at least?" he enquired.
She smiled broadly. "Yes," she said firmly. "See?" She reached out and knocked over the pepper pot.
For the first time, the Doctor's manic grin lit up Mr. Smith's face. Rose nodded shyly and left without speaking, the faster to get to a private place and let out her gasping sobs of relief where no one else could hear.